Chapter 7 - [THE SWITCHBLADE IN THE HALLWAY]
The sharp steel of the switchblade bit right through my black uniform, pressing a terrifying point of pressure against my ribs.
Silvio Bellini didn't look angry. He looked entirely bored, which made him infinitely more terrifying.
“Walk,” Silvio commanded softly, leaning in so his breath hot on my ear. “No sudden movements. No screaming. Just a quiet little stroll to wherever you left my family.”
I forced my legs to move. We walked down the sweeping mahogany hallway, away from the distant music of the garden terrace. My mind raced, bouncing violently between panic and desperation.
If I led Silvio down to the sub-cellar, Luca and Arthur would be caught entirely off guard. Silvio would kill them both without a second thought. But if I refused, Silvio would gut me right here in the hallway.
“Where did Julian take them?” Silvio asked, his grip punishingly tight on my shoulder.
“I don't know,” I lied, my voice shaking. “He just told me to stay in the kitchen.”
Silvio chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. He pressed the blade harder, breaking the skin. A warm trickle of blood slid down my side.
“Do you know what happens to liars in my family, Olivia?” Silvio asked. “We cut out their tongues. It’s an old-world tradition, but very effective.”
We reached the top of the narrow servant’s staircase. The same stairs that led down to the wine cellar where Luca was holding Julian captive.
I stopped at the edge of the top step.
“Keep moving,” Silvio ordered.
“Sir, the stairs are steep,” I stammered, gripping the wooden banister with both hands. “I don't want to fall.”
“I don't care if you break your neck. Walk.”
I took a breath. I thought of my father. I thought of Arthur, who had protected me for a decade. I thought of Luca, who had treated a broken old chauffeur with more respect than his billionaire peers.
I wasn't going to lead this monster to them.
Instead of stepping down, I threw my entire weight backward.
I slammed my back directly into Silvio’s chest, driving the point of the switchblade into my own side to throw him off balance. Silvio grunted in surprise, his foot slipping on the polished edge of the top stair.
Before he could recover, I twisted violently, grabbing his wrist and using my momentum to hurl myself down the narrow staircase.
We both tumbled down the steep, wooden steps in a terrifying tangle of limbs. I hit my shoulder hard against the wall, but Silvio took the brunt of the fall, his back slamming repeatedly against the sharp edges of the stairs.
We hit the landing at the bottom with a bone-jarring crash.
I scrambled away instantly, ignoring the sharp, burning pain in my ribs where the knife had cut me.
Silvio groaned, trying to push himself up. He was dazed, the switchblade knocked from his hand and skittering across the floorboards.
I didn't try to fight him. I threw open the iron door to the wine cellar and screamed.
“Luca! Silvio is here!”
Luca sprinted out of the darkness of the cellar, his gun drawn. He saw Silvio trying to reach for the dropped switchblade on the floor.
Without a word, Luca brought the heavy steel barrel of his pistol down across the back of Silvio’s skull. The old mobster collapsed instantly, knocked completely unconscious.
Arthur limped out of the cellar behind him, his face pale. He saw the blood soaking the side of my white apron.
“Olivia! You’re hurt!” Arthur cried, rushing toward me.
“I’m okay,” I panted, clutching my side. “It’s just a cut. He tried to force me down here. I had to throw him down the stairs.”
Luca stared at me, his chest heaving, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and profound awe.
“You threw a mafia boss down a flight of stairs?” Luca asked in disbelief.
“He was ruining the carpet,” I managed a weak smile.
Luca grabbed a clean linen napkin from his pocket and pressed it firmly against my side to stop the bleeding. His touch was surprisingly gentle for a man with blood on his knuckles.
“The ledger,” Arthur asked urgently. “Did you find it?”
“Yes,” I winced as Luca tied the napkin tight. “But Julian’s guards almost caught me. I had to hide it in the heating vent inside the coatroom. It’s safe, but we have to go back up to get it.”
“We can’t go back up,” Luca said, his jaw tightening. “Silvio’s men will realize he’s missing. The entire house is about to be crawling with Bellini gunmen. We’re trapped down here.”
“No, we aren't,” Arthur said quietly.
Luca turned to him. “Arthur, the carriage house tunnel collapsed. The stairs are the only way out.”
“Not the only way,” Arthur corrected. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the old brass key. “This key doesn't just open the carriage house, Luca. I told you your father wanted to keep his legitimate money safe from the syndicate.”
Arthur walked toward the back wall of the wine cellar, where a massive, ancient oak wine barrel was built directly into the stone foundation.
Arthur ran his hand along the side of the barrel, finding a small, hidden keyhole obscured by the iron banding.
He slid the brass key in and turned it.
With a heavy, grinding sound of stone on stone, the entire wine barrel slowly swung outward like a door, revealing a hidden, brightly lit corridor leading deep beneath the estate.
“Your father built a private vault,” Arthur said softly. “A place the Bellinis don't know about. And it has a secondary exit that leads straight to the main road.”
Luca stared at the hidden tunnel. “My father never told me about this.”
“He was waiting until he had cut all ties with the mob,” Arthur explained. “He wanted to hand you a clean empire. But he ran out of time.”
“Then we take the tunnel,” Luca said, hauling Silvio’s unconscious body into the cellar and locking the iron door behind us to buy time.
May you like
We stepped into the hidden corridor. The air was cool and smelled of fresh cement. But as we walked deeper, a slow, rhythmic clapping sound echoed from the far end of the tunnel.
Someone was waiting for us in the vault.
